Chapter 51 I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS
••Roman••
I glanced at the caller ID: Theo. Although we had no plans for the day, Theo rarely called without a purpose. I paused for just a moment before picking up the phone.
Theo's voice was quick to reach me—tense and tinged with regret. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You already have,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
There was a brief, weighted silence. “I found something. Genuine information.”
My jaw tightened. “About what?”
“The secret,” Theo began. “The one you overheard in Don Lorenzo’s office. The one you asked me to investigate.”
A chill crept into my chest. “What is it?” I inquired.
As Theo spoke, I halted in my tracks. The vibrant sounds of the surrounding world—the laughter from the rink, the grinding of skates, the faint music—all dulled, like someone gradually turning down the volume.
I gripped the phone more tightly.
Theo continued, and I simply stood there, entranced by his words. Something shifted within me, a profound realization settling in, like stepping onto ground you believed to be firm, only to discover it wasn't.
“Enough,” I said finally.
Theo went quiet.
“I’ll talk to you later. Not here.”
“When?” He asked.
“At home.”
I ended the call before Theo could respond. Then, I stood there for a moment, my phone still pressed to his ear, eyes unfocused. My chest felt tight, it was the kind of tight that did not come from fear but from disappointment settling into bone.
I turned back toward the rink.
Luciana was skating slowly near the edge, hair loose, laughter soft as she talked to herself about nearly falling again. She looked light and unburdened. The sight of her hit me harder than Theo’s words.
Not now, I thought. Not here.
I tried to plaster smile on my face. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket and walked back to her.
••Luciana••
I stood watching Roman from a distance, noticing how easily he switched back into that composed, guarded version of himself on the phone. The warmth faded slightly. I wondered which version of him was real. The one who held me steady on the ice, laughing when I wobbled, or the one speaking in low, dangerous tones into his phone.
When he came back, I noticed it immediately. The glow was gone. The ease in his face while skating before was replaced with that neutral, unreadable look. The one that locked everything away.
“Is anything wrong?” I asked, slowing beside him.
“Of course,” he said.
He smiled. It did not reach his eyes.
I studied him for another second, then looked away. If he wanted to talk, he would. Mafia business stayed where it belonged. Locked and sealed.
We skated a little longer. My legs started to ache. My stomach growled. I waved at him and pointed toward the benches.
“I need water,” I said.
He nodded. “Go.”
I watched him skate a few laps alone before sitting down. His movements were sharp again but something had changed.
When we got home, the silence followed us inside.
I freshened up quickly, tied my hair back, slipped into something comfortable. We ordered food.
I carried my chocolate milk to the couch and opened Netflix. The episode resumed where I had paused it.
“Is that our movie?” Roman asked from behind me.
I turned. “Our movie?”
“The one we were watching last time,” he said.
“Oh. Yes.”
He sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. He leaned back, arms folded loosely, eyes on the screen.
Surprisingly, he followed more raptly than the last time. He asked fewer questions. He missed nothing.
For a moment, it felt normal.
We sat there watching the movie like a perfect, ordinary couple. No tension. No sharp edges. Just shared silence and soft light.
Then his phone rang, it broke the quiet moment we were enjoying.
Roman checked the screen and stood. “I’ll be back.” He walked toward the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
I stayed on the couch, staring at the paused screen. Something tugged at me. I remembered the popcorn I had left on the bed earlier. This is the good time to eat it while I enjoy this movie, just my own little 'Netflix n chill'. I stood, grabbed my glass, and walked toward the bedroom.
The door was not fully closed. Roman’s voice slipped through the gap.
“Theo,” he said. “Talk.”
I stopped.
“I told you not to dig unless you were sure.”
A pause.
My fingers curled around the glass.
“What do you mean he knew it was going to happen?”
Silence. Then Roman spoke again.
“You’re telling me he had an idea. That something could happen to Andrian.”
My breath caught.
“And he did nothing.”
Another pause. Roman’s voice dropped further.
“If action had been taken earlier, things could have been different.”
The glass slipped slightly in my hand. I pushed the door open.
Roman turned at the sound. His eyes met mine just as the words settled into place in my head, sharp and unforgiving.
“You knew,” I said.
His expression shifted. Confusion first. Then realization.
“You knew,” I repeated, stepping fully into the room. “You knew something could happen to Andrian and you said nothing.”
“Luciana,” Roman said, moving toward me. “You are misunderstanding—”
“You all knew,” I snapped. “You talked about it. You ignored it. He died and you still skated with me like nothing happened.”
“That is not what—”
“Do not lie to me,” I said, my voice shaking now. “Do not stand there and pretend this is new to you.”
Roman stopped. His face hardened.
“This is not the place,” he said quietly.
My laugh came out sharp. Broken. “You said that before.”
The room felt too small now.
“You should have done something,” I said. “Someone should have.”
Roman stared at me, his silence louder than any defense.
That was enough.
I turned away, heart pounding, anger burning through every careful moment we had built.
Behind me, Roman did not move. I slammed the door loud behind me and just left the suite. I can't believe this.